


Morning Muse

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, First Times, Getting Together, M/M, Painting, Secrets, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 09:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14745843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: In the painting - soft, muted oils - a boy, barely 18, lay sprawled out on a mussed bed, a sea of crumpled sheets and blankets collecting around his naked body. One corner of a blanket barely covered his lap. The rest of the room around him disappeared in hazy browns and dark blues, but the boy glowed, the light framing his blond hair giving him the impression of a halo.





	Morning Muse

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my MCU bingo square "Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin" and my Stony bingo square "Experience."
> 
> Thank you to firelightmystic and the rest of the 616 discord for the idea!
> 
> Thank you to ashes0909 for beta <3

"Guys, you'll never believe what I found!" Tony staggered into the living room, hauling a large, cloth-wrapped package in his arms. It was thin but wide and tall. 

"What?" Clint asked.

"Wait for it…" Tony set it down, leaning against the wall, then tugged the cloth off.

Steve stared, time slowing down and softening, shifting. 

It was a painting.

In the painting - soft, muted oils - a boy, barely 18, lay sprawled out on a mussed bed, a sea of crumpled sheets and blankets collecting around his naked body. One corner of a blanket barely covered his lap. The rest of the room around him disappeared in hazy browns and dark blues, but the boy glowed, the light framing his blond hair giving him the impression of a halo. 

Steve's smile grew slowly.

"You bought a painting," Thor said. "Very nice."

Tony frowned at them. "Don't you see it?"

Nat shrugged. "See what?"

"It's Steve!" Tony proclaimed, holding the edge of the ornate gold frame and tipping it forward as if that would help them all see what he saw. 

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Um. That's not Steve. That's about half of Steve, at best."

"Well, it's obviously before the serum. It's 1930s Steve." Tony turned to Steve, smiling, then tipped his head as he saw what must have been a very odd expression on Steve's face. Several emotions were battling for control in Steve's heart. 

The sheets in the painting were soft, catching the light in a way that made them look plush and smooth. The boy stretched back across the bed, one leg dangling serenely off the end, as if off a dock in summer, lazily toeing at the cool river water. The other leg was bent, heel hooked on the mattress, tipping his hips towards the artist a little, teasing a bit.

"It looks just like him," Tony said, with a pout now. "You guys suck. I can't believe you can't see it." Tony turned back to the painting, arms crossed. "Looks just like him," he muttered.

Clint looked at Steve, and Steve let his lips twitch up into a smile, eyes still fixed on the painting. "So?" Clint said. "Is it you, or what?" 

Steve shifted his eyes from the boy in the painting to the back of Tony's neck, pink with embarrassment or maybe just frustration. "Why would there be a naked painting of me from before the serum?"

Clint shrugged at Tony. "Cap says no."

Steve looked back down at the book in his lap, but he wasn't seeing its pages anymore, he was seeing a line of chipped ceramic pots, water in some, messy paint tubes in others, all in a long line next to an easel.

Nat, Clint, and Thor eventually wandered out of the room, chatting about the movie they were going to go watch in Thor's apartment. Steve waved off their invitation, as did Tony. Steve smiled; he liked these times that it was just the two of them.

Once they were alone, Tony turned on Steve with narrowed eyes. Steve stood and walked over to the painting. One finger ran across the top of the frame. He could still smell oil paint and asthma cigarettes, feel the scratch of the rough sheets that had been painted much softer than they'd felt on his bare skin. His picture-perfect memory could also recall the slight burn in his muscles, the languid softness that had settled over his mind. He dropped his eyes to the boy's bare hip. The artist had left out the finger-shaped bruises that formed a half-moon around the jutting bone.

"Do you know what this painting is called?" Steve asked.

"No. The seller didn't know."

"It's called _ Morning Muse, _ and it's by an artist called Donald Abbott, painted in September 1936."

Tony gaped at him. "How do you know that?"

"I have an eidetic memory, Tony."

There was an uncomfortable sounding noise, like a mix between a scoff and a snort. "I didn't ask how you could remember that, I asked how you  _ know  _ that."

"I went to art school with him."

"Wha- but, does that - is it -?" Tony spluttered.

"You know people always think that I hated my body back then, that the serum was as much a move of vanity as anything else." Steve crouched in front of the painting and ran his fingertip lightly over the clearly visible ribs of the boy in the painting. He came away with a finger covered in soft, grey, dust. "Who wouldn't want to go from this to this?" Steve gestured at the painting then at himself. "They're wrong though. I never felt ugly, never felt unwanted. I did feel weak, I did feel useless, when other people could do what I couldn't, fight for their country. But never ugly…"

"I think you were gorgeous back then," Tony muttered.

Steve flashed him a brilliant grin. "Thank you. So did Donnie," he said lightly. "So did a lot of the guys I went to school with, or who worked in the city. Honestly, there are enough paintings out there like this that I'm surprised it took you this long to find one."

"Steve… were you  _ live-model fucking  _ your way around Brooklyn?" Tony gasped. "I always assumed you were a virgin, Christ."

Steve pushed back to his feet and crowded into Tony's space, who, to his credit, stood his ground. This game they'd been playing, dancing around each other, flirting, joking, stealing sneaky touches and throwing one too many sparring matches to end up pinned by the other, it was fun, but it wasn't enough. Steve wanted, now. He leaned forward and brushed his lips over Tony's, smiling into the almost-kiss. Tony smiled back.

"Sorry, but Steve Rogers lost his virginity a long time ago," he said softly.

"Don't be sorry. So did Tony Stark."

Steve ran his fingers along the painting's frame one more time, sucking in a breath that was hazy, dusty air, the musk of sweat and sex, and Donnie's cheap wine. He dropped his eyes closed and watched a paintbrush dance over a canvas, adding layer after layer of oil, building his likeness. He ran his thumb over the carved, gold-painted wood frame and felt the swell of Donnie's shoulders instead, hot under his hands.

He breathed out, opened his eyes again, and smiled at Tony.

"I do have a confession to make, though." Steve dropped his hand from the frame to Tony's hip, tucking his thumb up under the hem of his shirt and pressing a soft thumbprint into Tony's bare skin.

"Yeah?" Tony sounded nearly breathless, and that made Steve's heart skip with pleasure.

"Steve Rogers lost his virginity a long time ago, but… Captain America still hasn't."

Tony's mouth fell open. "Are you saying you haven't had sex since the serum?"

"Nope. No time. Then no one I wanted to have it with. I know it seems… slutty, or something, that I was sleeping with all those fellow-artists, back then, but it wasn't like that. It was like… I don't know. I don't want to say family, because that sounds weird. But it wasn't just the sex, we were all supporting each other, falling into each other, finding ourselves, finding our art."

Tony looked back down at the painting. "I don't think it's slutty at all. I think it's beautiful. Why do you think I bought it?"

Steve choked off a happy noise by pressing his lips to Tony's. Despite all the build up of the last few months of teasing each other, it wasn't hot, heavy, or insistent. Tony was easy and warm and pliant under Steve, and he took his time exploring, running his tongue over Tony's bottom lip, slotting their mouths together, then parting his lips softly to lick into Tony's mouth. Tony hummed with pleasure, his hands landing on Steve's chest then sliding down his thin t-shirt, over his stomach, to settle with his fingers hooked in Steve's waistband, not pressing or requesting access, but promising things to come.

"We can wait," Tony said softly, not moving his lips any father from Steve's than was necessary to speak. "There's no rush."

"I think I've waited long enough. You'll just have to remind me how it goes," Steve said with a cheeky grin. He gripped Tony's hips harder, drew him up close so he could feel the reaction Steve's body was having to their increasingly heated kisses. 

"Mmm, you make a very compelling argument, Captain."

"You'll be good to me, won't you, Tony?" Steve asked with a smirk and flirty raised eyebrow. He batted his eyelashes. "I've never done this before."

Tony snorted, grinning wider than Steve had ever seen him before. "Liar." Tony tugged on the strap of the Captain America pants Steve hadn't shucked after training. "I know once these come off, you're all Steve Rogers under there."

"Well, alright, if it's Steve Rogers you want, I guess I'll just have to show you what I already know I like."

"Well, I know what you like for foreplay -" he gestured at the painting "- but I don't know how to paint."

"That wasn't foreplay," Steve whispered in his ear, slotting them together, warm, solid; they fit. "That was the afterglow. But if you're very, very good, maybe I'll paint  _ you."  _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can follow me on tumblr at festiveferret.tumblr.com <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Model](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14817266) by [ashes0909](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/pseuds/ashes0909)




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